


Fearless

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: On a stormy night, Iris runs into Barry after almost half a year of not seeing him.





	Fearless

As the storm intensifies, Iris rushes to the nearest open shop she can find, not minding where it lands her.

Her hair is soaked, as are her clothes, and she’s doing all she can to protect her notebooks, files, and laptop, the bag she has her only guard against the pouring rain.

A thunderstorm in Central City in March? That, she was not expecting. She throws it up to climate change as another grunt escapes her lips, her feet defiantly steady as she pushes open the door to a bar in downtown.

Her father’s warned her about doing this. And really, it’s her fault for getting herself into these situations, with sleazy men and pointed weapons, but it’s the job she’s signed up for, it’s the job she’ll risk her life for, and if she’s anything, she’s relentless.

She takes one last look at the storm outside, and it’s like the clouds have followed her all the way here. The city lights look blurred; there isn’t much she can make out aside from the timid yellow coming from them. It’s almost a vacant lot, and downtown looks more like a forgotten ghost town than anything.

Maybe she should’ve known there would be thunder tonight. But if she’s honest – and honest she always is – it wouldn’t have deterred her one bit.

“Miss?”

A man from inside quietly calls her name from inside. She turns around only to find herself staring at an empty bar. She can’t pinpoint where the voice is coming from.

“Miss!”

Before she knows it, she’s falling into someone’s arms and she vaguely, just vaguely hears her name escape the man’s lips before things get jumbled.

* * *

Barry panics.

Of all the people he was expecting to see tonight, his ex girlfriend, aka the love of his entire life, aka the one who got away, aka the one who he thought he’d never see again, aka the girl he should have fought harder for but let walk away, was not one of them.

And he especially wasn’t expecting to catch her falling body. She showed up out of thin air and collapsed into his arms out of thin air, and he’s not sure what she was doing, probably on some dangerous work assignment like she always was, but that currently didn’t matter. What did matter was getting alcohol on the scrapes on her head and getting her out of her wet clothes and on the couch in the back and he begins to breathe again as he sees her eyes flutter open, as she lets out a sharp exhale.

“Iris.” She opens her eyes fully now, seemingly taking in her surroundings.

He can only assume her silence is because she’s trying to process everything around her, so he explains, “you came in, you fainted, I got you dry clothes and a blanket, it’s been about an hour.”

 _Yes_ , he undressed her, _but_ really he had no choice. The wet clothes were sticking to her body, and he’d rather her slap him than die of hypothermia. It seemed like a worthwhile tradeoff.

She blinks a couple of times.

“Are you okay?” He quickly remarks, because she still isn’t saying anything. “Do you need water, food? Coffee maybe?” Iris always did love a good cup of coffee, no matter how late or how early, she’d down it like it was her only lifeline.

“I can get you more blankets,” Barry rambles on, unsure of when to stop. “Heavy, warmer ones too. We have more pillows here somewhere, and if you need a jacket, here –“

As he stands up to take his off and put it on her, she stops him with the touch of her hand to his arm.

He stills.

“Hi, Bear.”

He looks down at her, and for the first time tonight, he sees the curiosity in her eyes, tinged with a little bit of fear, or maybe worry or concern, he isn’t quite sure, but the same warmth he’s always seen in her is still there and he can’t help the small smile that draws on his lips.

It was her nickname for him, she’s the only one that’s ever used it on him, and truthfully, no one else would ever say it the way she does. She can turn the only syllable into an entire poem, one laced with softness and comfort, and he can feel the flood of emotions hit him.

 _God,_ it’s Iris. _The_ Iris he hasn’t seen in almost 5 months, _the_ Iris who’s been on his mind every day since the day he met her, _the_ Iris who owns his entire heart, who is his whole world, who he’s never stopped loving even though he hasn’t spoken to her in ages.

“Are you okay?” His voice breaks.

She stares at him for what seems to be an eternity before nodding her head. Gently, her hand pulls him back down, and he takes his seat next to her on the chair.

“What happened?” She asks.

“Uhh…” Barry smirks, hand coming to the nape of his neck. “One second, I was getting ready to close up and go home, the next second, you were falling into my arms and I had a near panic attack.”

Iris groans and tilts her head to the side. “I am _so_ sorry,” she emphasizes.

“No..hey,” the same hand travels from his neck to rest on her cheek and she turns back to look at him, “please don’t be. I’m just glad you’re awake now, honestly.”

She nods slowly and her eyes stay locked with his. He thinks maybe he should remove his hand, but he feels her slightly nuzzle into it, so he decides to keep it there, not knowing where the unfound confidence is coming from, but knowing her warmth is enough to take the risk.

She still looks as beautiful as ever.

Really, she always does, but especially when she’s wearing his clothes, like she is now, the shirt ironically one of her favorites from when she used to steal his stuff all the time and he used to laugh it off, used to tell her that it looked much better on her than it could ever look on him.

He never thought he’d see her again, never thought there would come a day where he’d get to touch her and sit next to her and watch her wake up and take care of her. But here he was, just when he was kicking his luck, just when he was getting mad at the world again, he was with Iris and suddenly, he couldn’t remember any emotion other than gratitude…and love.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she whispers, a laugh joining along.

“What happened, Iris?” Barry asks, not masking the concern in his voice.

“You can guess.”

“A story?”

She nods.

He almost smiles. _Almost._ It’s not like he’s surprised, by no means, he knows she’d risk her life during the deadliest of storms if it meant getting the scoop, but he can’t stop his heart from racing at the prospects of what could have happened to her had she not made it to him.

“I’m okay,” she says.

He frowns.

“M..maybe not the best,” she laughs again, looking down at the blanket covering her, “but really, it could’ve been worse.”

Barry shakes his head. “That is in no way comforting,” but he can’t help but laugh too, given the circumstance of it all.

Iris’s eyes glisten, and he can’t help but remember how much he’s missed her…how he ever thought he would forget her is beyond him, especially now, when she’s looking at him and he’s thinking he’d do anything for her to stay.

“You still worry about me?” She asks, the humor dry in her voice.

“Mmmm, just about every second of every day.”

Iris looks down. “That makes two of us.”

The atmosphere changes from playful to serious and he looks at her and sees a shy gaze on her face. He wants to ask her how she’s doing, wants to ask her what’s it been like all this time away from him, wants to ask her if she’s been missing him the way he’s been desperately missing her, if she still dreams about him, if her dreams land her to his bed, if she imagines his hand in hers, if she’s even remotely regretful at the way they ended things, at the way they broke each other hearts’ because of a misunderstanding, because they both pushed and neither pulled and it turned into not speaking for almost half a year, it turned into pain and tears and misery, and my god he just wants to know if she’s been happy, if she’s found peace, if she’s forgiven him, if she’s moved on, if she still loves him the way he still _adores_ her, the way he can’t stop loving her, since he first met her, since the beginning of time.

But that’s heavy.

And right now, she seems unsteady, and if anything, he just wants her to feel safe.

So he jokes, “guess we were made for each other, huh?”

She looks up at him with sad eyes and he curses himself for saying that.

“Sor-“

“No,” Iris hushes him, “you don’t have to apologize, really.

I just feel tired, I should probably head out.”

“Iris…”

Barry’s heart is breaking all over again as she gently moves his hand away from her cheek. She begins to push off the couch and he can’t decide on what to do, on what she wants him to do. So he settles on, “stay.”

She shakes her head, the blanket pooling at her thighs. “I’ve wasted enough of your time.”

“No, you really haven’t,” he argues, pleading with her.

She makes her way off the couch and stands in front of him, and Barry has to fight back the tears that are burning in his eyes. “Please, stay,” he begs.

“Bea-“

“Iris,” he stands up now, taking her arms in his hands, pushing away the spark that ignites between them, the way the touch of her skin makes him feel like home. He pushes all of it away, because he wants to do it right. By chance, she fell into his bar tonight, and he’ll be dammed if he lets her get away again. “Please, please stay. It’s dark outside,” he justifies, “and the storm is still strong, it’s going to pour down rain and lightning anytime now. No one’s out tonight, the streets are flooded, you can’t get home. Just stay here till it clears up.”

His eyes stay locked with hers. He silently prays that she’ll take his offer, that she won’t try to run away or put her walls up. Even though she’s within her rights, and he knows, he knows that if she chooses to walk away, she’s entitled to it, but he also knows that he won’t give up that easily, not this time around.

The silence stretches on for a while. He doesn’t want to say anything else that might scare her off. She’s still looking at him, but her eyes seem distant, like they’re anywhere but in this moment. Maybe she’ll faint again, he thinks. Maybe she’s low on sugar, maybe she’s cold.

And just when he begins to speak, when his lips open and close, then open again, she interrupts. “- I’ve been meaning to call.”

He raises his eyebrows.

She ducks her head and stares at the ground beneath them. “Really,” she continues, “I just…I just didn’t know if it was the right time.”

“I called.”

Another pause.

“Yeah,” Iris shuffles her feet, “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him. “You’re apologizing to me,” she says earnestly, “but I’m the one who pushed.”

“Because you care,” and Barry knows this now, he believes it with his last breath. His mother’s murder had always been a vulnerable subject, something that made him believe insecure and unsure and…angry.

When he opened up to Iris about it, how he believed his mom was murdered, how he was just a child when it happened and he thought someone wrote it off as a freak accident, but he was sure that someone killed his mom, she believed him. Nobody believed him. Not even his dad, no matter how many tears he cried over it, no matter how much he begged to be heard.

And all his life, no one believed that a kid would be right about his mother’s murder. Except for Iris.

When he met her three years ago, he never thought he’d have a chance with her. It took him an entire year to even have the guts to speak more than two words to her, the boldest, best journalist in Central City, founder of _The Central City Citizen,_ who – lucky him – was in the police department almost every day because her dad was a cop and her boyfriend was a detective and he was a lovesick boy who didn’t know how to approach her.

Then one day, she stopped coming around. And he missed their infrequent run-ins with each other, missed how he’d tease her about her coffee intake every once in a while and how she’d call him her favorite nerd, and how she’d smile at him like he meant something to someone, like he had a friend in her, he missed having her there.

So he asked Joe what happened, and it turned out her and Detective Pretty Boy broke up and Barry was simultaneously overjoyed and furious on her behalf that he almost created a drink that would knock Eddie out. Instead, he practically ran over to Iris’s newsroom with her favorite cup of coffee, only to find her at her desk, head on her keyboard, hair splattered around her. He was already in love with her, but that day, the stars all aligned and it was like fireworks exploded inside of his chest.

Another five months passed before he finally asked her out. And then _she_ kissed _him_ because he was a nervous puddle, because she made him feel like putty, because he melted at the sound of her name, and he was a mess when it came to Iris West.

They dated and then they became more than just two people seeing each other, and then she became his girlfriend, and then he told her she was the love of his life, and it was like his past finally let go of the hold on him, like being with Iris gave him something new and _good_ to hold onto.

But one thing about dating a journalist was that she was eager for the truth. And she fiercely believed his story, believed that someone did kill his mom on the only premise that he believed in it, and she was fearless in pursuing it.

Which didn’t sit well with Barry. It meant old wounds would open. It meant she could get hurt. And mostly, it meant that he could find out what really happened, and that terrified him senseless.

Iris broke the story not too long after. Maybe a year, he doesn’t remember the details much. Part of it was that he didn’t ask too many questions, even though she wanted to include him. Another part was because he told her to be careful, he told her she didn’t have to do any of this on his behalf.

But the truth was out there, and it involved his uncle killing his mom. His dad didn’t believe it. Hell, Barry barely believed it himself.

Iris did.

He didn’t doubt her evidence. He didn’t doubt her tenacity; he knew one thread could lead her to a pile of tangled strings that she untangled one by one.

But he was scared.

And it was his girlfriend versus his family.

So he walked away.

“I shouldn’t have,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head. He hated seeing her doubt herself, over something that she had been completely right on.

“I should’ve backed off,” Iris continues, “I should’ve just let it be.”

“But you believed,” he defends, for her sake, does what he should’ve done a long time ago, “you believed in me, Iris. And I never said thank you for it.”

“Why are you working at a bar?” she asks, peculiarly.

He quirks his head and she laughs. “I mean, not to change the subject, but it’s just a little…surprising.”

Barry smiles. “Needed sometime away from crimes and villains and conspiracy. Thought I’d put my chemistry skills somewhere else.”

“As a fulltime bartender?” she grins.

“You said it yourself -” he begins, but she cuts him off.

“- if you can do chemistry, you can do anything,” she finishes the sentence for him, and that smile that he’s missed so much is plastered on her face again. Even in dim, poor lighting of this room, it still glows, and he can still make out the curve of her lips around her teeth, the way her nose scrunches up, the glisten in her eyes. He never thought he’d see her smile this wide again.

“Yes…so…bartending,” he smirks.

“For how long?”

“Not very. Just two months now.”

“And you’re staying?”

“Also not for long. Maybe another few weeks.”

Iris nods her head, understandingly.

“The CSI gig…I miss it, you know?” he says, feeling his hands on her arms shake, his heartbeat racing now.

Iris’s eyes don’t break contact with him as she leans forward and envelops him in a hug.

He’s probably stopped breathing at this point, he can’t really tell anymore. But if there’s no oxygen circulating in his body, that’s okay. Having her hold him and touching her again is all he needs. The rest of it is just details.

She whispers into the nape of his neck, “you’re a great CSI.”

Barry’s body goes limp and he’s thankful he’s got her to grip on to; otherwise he’d fall to the ground.

Even now, even after all of this time of being angry and being upset and not speaking, she still believes in him all the same.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he manages to mutter.

* * *

So a night that could’ve almost gotten her killed led her to hug the boy she never thought she’d see again.

She embraces the warmth that his body offers. It feels nice to be back in his t-shirt. She never did give him back the clothes that he’d left at her place, and she’d never offer them up. They were her only reminder of him, their smell still like his, and she doesn’t tell this to anybody, hasn’t spoken to many about it since their breakup, but she still sleeps in his clothes every night.

After the first week of not being able to fall asleep without him, wearing his clothes, they were a good alternative. They gave her something to hold onto, something of him that she didn’t have anymore, something that she could use to dry her tears and snuggle into. It wasn’t the same as having him _physically_ there with her, but it was good enough to allow her tired eyes to close for more than a few minutes at a time.

Now, that she’s holding him again, she doesn’t know how she managed all of these months without him, all of the days and nights, not having him by her side.

He’s a lot softer than she remembers, and maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s her mind pulling tricks on her, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s finally in his arms after all this time, but she swears he’s falling into her and she’s doing all that she can to keep him upright.

“You okay, Bear?” she whispers. Even though she’s the one who ran for her life today, the one who fainted after getting caught up in a relentless storm, it’s like he’s the one who could use the comfort.

“Fine,” he laughs into her neck, and Iris can feel the breath from his lips settle onto her neck.

Just her luck that he’d be the one to pop up when she felt like she had nothing left to give.

“Barry,” she nudges him a little till he looks at her, and the smile on her lips quirks up because he’s here, in the flesh, standing in front of her, looking at her with those green eyes, with his messy brown hair, with his pretty freckles, every single one of them, with the same face that she’s kissed to sleep and kissed awake just because she could.

“Stay,” he murmurs.

The still of the night allows her to hear the small voice that comes out of him. She takes a moment to examine her surroundings. The raincoat she had on earlier is hanging on the doorknob, and her jeans are laid out on another chair, along with her shirt. Barry surely put them there to dry.

She sees the black couch she was resting on not too long ago, and sees the chair he was sitting on, next to her. It’s a small alcove of a room, barely big enough to fit two people, but the two of them were huddled close enough that they could pass off as one.

Her hand leaves his back and travels up to his neck, and she takes the dangling locks from his hair into her fingers. He visibly exhales at the contact, which gives Iris a mischievous boost in confidence when she remembers how affected he can be by her.

Not to brag.

It’s just nice, that’s all. It’s welcome, given how they left things.

“I’m sorry I never answered,” she says, referencing his previous statement.

She wanted to call him back. Every time her phone rang and his number showed up, she wanted to call him back.

Even deleting his contact information wasn’t enough, she still had the number memorized, and the more she tried to forget it, the less success she had.

So she blocked his number for a while, a while being two days, but then she didn’t know why she was blocking his number when he was the one supposed to be mad at her.

Part of it was sorrow. Part of it was feeling sorry for herself and feeling self-pity. The biggest part was regret. She missed him. But she was scared if he ever did reach out again, it would be for the wrong reason.

They put his uncle away in jail. Iris didn’t ask any questions when she saw her dad, even though the curiosity inside her was begging for release. She tried to eavesdrop on conversations every now and again, whenever she was with her dad and he had to take a call. She stopped going to CCPD for the first three months out of respect for Barry. On the fourth, she didn’t find him there, but he was still the talk of the precinct. She never bothered to ask where he was. Even when she went up to his lab and found his stuff gone, even though the microscope she bought him was still resting on his desk untouched. She still didn’t ask.

Sometimes, she assumed the worst. Her thoughts consumed her for hours at a time, thinking of him and of what could’ve happened to him. Maybe he left town, or ran away, maybe he decided to quit his job and hide out somewhere. Maybe she’d never see him again.

Really, she wanted to call, to appease those worries, to remind herself of what his voice sounded like, a reminder that didn’t come from old voicemails or videos he’d left on her phone.

But she never got around to it.

“I wanted to,” she continues, hands coming to trace the freckles on his cheeks, “but I just…”

He looks at her with wondering, adoring eyes, and she shakes her head in turn. There really was no good enough explanation.

They had a huge fight before he left. It didn’t seem like he was mad at her for finding the truth; mostly it seemed like he was mad at her for risking her life to find it, especially when she talked to his uncle herself, the same uncle who she figured out was a murderer.

Barry didn’t like that.

And she understood his fear, couldn’t even fathom how she would react if he ever did something like that, but Iris found that she couldn’t satisfy herself unless she got some sort of vengeance for Barry, unless she found a way to make the man who put him through so much self doubt and pain pay.

But she pushed too hard, and he said he needed space. The only thing she wanted to do was to hold him for the entire time, was to be right by his side through it, but she respected it, especially when it came to family. God knows she went through her fair share of those moments of darkness when it came to finding out she had a brother from a mother she’d never even met.

“I kept wondering where you were,” she continues, a hint of nostalgia in the prosody of her voice, “I wondered if you were safe and okay and –“

He brings his forehead to rest against hers, the intensity of his eyes green piercing her own.

“I’m okay, Iris,” he reassures.

She fights the urge to lean in and kiss him, to just get lost in him. Out of everything that could have and probably should have happened to her, meeting him was not one of them.

“I want you stay,” he repeats again, this time bringing his hands to rest on her hips, “just until the storm is over.”

And how can she not agree when he’s being so kind, when he’s so warm to the touch, so she nods her consent, lets him guide her back to the couch.

“You’re still cold,” he says, bringing the blanket over her again.

Iris pushes it off.

He looks at her whimsically.

“You’re warmer than a blanket,” she grins shyly.

She watches as he smiles back, and slowly, he pulls the blanket off, takes off his shoes, and readies himself to join. She scoots forward, sitting up to give him room to sit behind her. Once he’s situated, Iris leans into him, resting the back of her head on his chest as his arms come to wrap around her.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she hums.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, she feels his thumb caress her knuckles just as his mouth comes to rest on her shoulder.

Iris tenses up momentarily, but as he continues to breathe her in, she lets herself relax. In the midst of losing him, she figured something out: to let life come as it may. And tonight, maybe this was the universe’s way of letting her know that now was the time to give in, to let this work out the way it was meant to, to surrender to him and hope he doesn’t break her.

“He’s in jail.”

Iris holds her breath, waits for him to continue.

“They put him in prison. Your dad helped.” The movement of the pads of his fingers on her knuckles stops briefly, before resuming again, along with his words.

“And there’s talk of him given the death penalty. My dad hasn’t been talking much, given it was his brother and all.”

“I’m sorry, Bear,” comes out her unsteady sympathies. She didn’t know that part of it, but it explains his silence for those few months.

“It’s been a bit strained, trying to talk to him. He’s gone off in his own world and I don’t know how to get him back.

He misses you.”

She turns her cheek to rest it against his heart. “Your dad?”

“Yeah. And me. But that part you know,” he laughs.

“I didn’t,” Iris corrects, “I just know I missed you.”

“Well, yeah.” His other hand comes to play with her hair and she feels him engulfing her, feels his legs tangling with hers. He was always so tall, so long limbed that she had to strain her neck when she wanted to kiss him, if they were both standing up. And he’d still have to bend down, still have to lift her up just a little, especially when she didn’t have any heels on, to make the height difference more feasible. “You’re not easy to forget, Iris West.”

“You’re not either, Barry Allen.”

She hesitantly turns the hand that he’s playing with so that she can lace her fingers through his. Barry responds immediately, gripping tightly to her hand, resting both of theirs over her tummy.

A warmth builds inside her, and she decides that if this is going to go any further, she’ll let it; she wants it, she misses him, she misses him, she misses him, more than she’s let herself believe, more than she’s allowed herself to feel these past few months.

When their relationship fell though, she threw herself into her work, deciding that doing was better than feeling. Linda tried to talk her out of it, her dad worried about her day in and day out, Wally hugged her extra tight every time he saw her, but she wouldn’t have it. It was easier this way, better for everyone, herself included. No one was allowed to see her break, no one was allowed to see the way she made a shell out of her own body, how she hid there till it felt safe enough again.

Iris believed in the truth. And she was good at getting it out of people, good at pursuing what she wanted to without compromising on her quest to find justice, wherever it landed her. That may have pushed Barry away, but it didn’t mean the stories suddenly stopped or there were any less mysteries to solve. It meant that she would try harder, that she would do her best for the next time around.

But during those moments when she’d have time to come home, when she’d stop typing momentarily or doze off from watching a T.V. show, she thought of Barry, thought of what he might be going through, thought of what he might be feeling, and it tugged on her heart strings to not reach out, to give him space, to delete his number and forget it to the best of her ability, even though it’s the last thing she wanted to do.

So tonight, she decided, she was done closing herself off. He was the only one that could really open her up anyway, and if this were to go where she wanted it to go, she’d let it. For his sake. For her sake. For the sake of them.

“Are you feeling okay?” Barry questions, now placing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

“F..fine,” she stutters at the contact, the ghost of his lips remaining after he’s pulled away.

He does it again, this time lingering a little longer, and she slightly turns her head, giving him better access.

“We might get stranded here tonight.”

“’that so?” Iris asks, distracted.

“Mhm,” he brings his other hand underneath the blanket and she really tries to steady her breath at the contact, as his fingers graze _his_ shirt, the shirt that is entirely too big for her, as they make their way underneath it, just barely, right at the base of her tummy.

“When does the bar open?”

“Not till late,” Barry whispers, placing another kiss, this time to her cheek, “we can leave before anyone comes in. The streets will be flooded anyway.”

She knows it’s a stupid question, but call it the heat of the moment, so she asks it anyway. “And what did you have in mind, Barry?”

Cold air hits her neck, and she suppresses a groan because he’s moved away, and the hand that’s underneath her shirt retracts just slightly, and she’s annoyed at herself more than anything.

Barry lets go of her other hand, uses it to gently turn her chin so that she’s facing him, so that their eyes are staring into each others’.

“Whatever you want.”

He says it so seriously that her heart skips a beat.

And she has no desire to fight anymore, so she lets her eyes travel to his lips, stares at them for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again.

If the bulge she feels is anything to go by, she knows what he wants, and yeah, it’s what she wants to.

But before this goes any further between them, before they cross a line that’ll hurt like hell to backtrack from, she has to make sure. “Are we okay?” she asks. Her voice is small and shaky, and she can’t quite look him in eye while the words escape her lips.

Barry, bless him, doesn’t keep her waiting for too long. Because before she can look up, she feels the flutter of his lips touch hers, she feels the tight seal they create, and she lets out a sigh of relief as he presses a little harder, as his hand finds its way underneath the sweatpants that are entirely too big for her, as she makes out his smile, and she hasn’t felt happier than this in a long time.

“More than okay,” Barry murmurs when he pulls away, staring at her longingly with those green eyes that look a little more dark that she remembers them being tonight.

Memories flood back of when they used to do this all the time. They used to get lost in each other, those two years when they were together, no matter who else was in the room or what else was happening, it would just be him and her and everything else would fade to the background. Iris remembers all those times, when she playfully teased him, when she kissed him so passionately that it got the exact reaction she hoped for every time, she she came to visit him in his lab, all the lunch dates and mornings when he'd bring her coffee and evenings when she'd tried to cook him dinner, but before she could burn anything, he'd let her off the hook and take over, instead assigning her to read off the recipes while he did all the work. 

The memories kept her sane through their time apart, she realizes, but now that he's back home, now that he's next to her, she decides that she wants to make new memories with him, starting tonight, and going until forever.

So she tells him, as confidently as she can, as steadily and graceful as her heart will allow her too, “I love you, Bear," because she's been wanting to say it and he deserves to hear it; she wants him to know that nothing has changed, not for her at least, that he's the boy who'll always have her heart, no matter the time they spend apart. 

She's not expecting it in return, but it doesn't stop the rush of happiness when she hears “I love you,” back, when he says it almost instantly after the words escape her lips, when his lips are back on hers right after, and his hand is underneath her underwear, traveling where she wants it to go, so she gets lost in him, believing in him, trusting him, feeling safe and steady for the first time in almost five months.

* * *

When he wakes up, Iris is almost entirely laying on top of him.

The room is dark, and he’s not sure of the time. What he does know is that last night was one he’d remember for the rest of his life, with his love back in his arms, with them coming together and falling asleep together, with her still here, not running away.

He loves her.

More than anything.

He already knew it, knew it the moment he met her, has known it since, but in this second, as he looks down and makes out the features on her face, the sleeping eyes and content smile, the way her arms wrap entirely around his waist, the way her breaths are slow, matching his, he falls in love with her all over again.

The girl who believes in him, the girl who chased a single lead, who didn’t need to be convinced twice of something he so desperately wanted others to believe, the girl who stole his heart, made all his nerves tingle with nervousness and jitters, made him so happy and so safe, was lying fast asleep in his arms, blanketed around him, her head on his chest, her legs tangled with his.

Whatever they need to talk through, they will, he decides.

But no more running.

From the world, maybe. But from her? Never.

Because no matter where he’ll go and what he’ll do, he promises silently, in the dark of a stormy night at an unknown time, that he’ll take her with him, that he’ll always hold her tight, as long as she’ll have him.


End file.
